Improvisation
by Sorsha711
Summary: Set after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter changes Brass's life forever and leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.
1. Chapter 1

A Nod is as Good as a Wink to a Blind Horse -- Prologue

Title: Improvisation, Prologue

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Prologue

--

Their suspect lay sprawled on the ground, his hands cuffed behind his back. A ring of uniformed officers hovered around the man, each bearing a look that begged Jeffers to make a move… any move. The fear and anxiety that had gripped Vegas in the wake of his killing spree had frayed a lot of nerves. Now that it was over, the adrenaline that had fueled their search had yet to burn out of their systems and the need to do something… anything, clawed at their skin.

Brass's frown became impossibly grim as Sam Vega leaned in to whisper that Jeffers' last victim hadn't made it… a SWAT team member named Joe Wozniak. The unit's senior marksman had died in route to the Desert Palms Hospital. What made his loss all the worse was it shouldn't have happened… at least not like it had.

A brash young hothead from the Sheriff's detail had let his desire for glory get the better of him, had confronted the killer rather than remain at his post while they waited for Cody Jeffers to arrive in their predetermined extraction point. /Another twenty feet and… there isn't any point in playing the 'what if' game./ They hadn't had the opportunity to carry out their plan as it had been conceived and two officers were dead… another three injured as a result.

The killer had panicked… sprayed the area with automatic fire in hopes of evading them when he had caught sight of Rob Stanley doing his lame impression of Wyatt Earp. /The little prick was more concerned with being the one to 'take the psycho out' than maintaining his position./ He had waited until Jeffers had passed his position, then tried to take their suspect from behind… stupid only began to scratch the surface of his disastrous actions.

That thought caused the senior detective to glace to his right. Sighing, he watched as David Philips stepped back to allow Grissom's team to begin processing the body of the fallen officer. He had been too green for this type of situation, a fact both he and Vega had argued with the Sheriff… but the kid had been the son of one of the Sheriff's biggest supporters. Stanley and his dad had had visions of glory… /delusions of grandeur were more like it/ Brass mused. The young man had tried to stand his ground when his gun jammed rather than diving for cover. It had been a fatal mistake.

Looking around the plaza area of the upscale shopping and entertainment complex, he had to admit it could have been a lot worse. The early morning hour had meant that there were few bystanders in the area. Those that had been in the vicinity had been quickly pulled out of harms way. The wounded or dead were all LVPD.

Stanley's precipitous actions had very nearly busted their containment zone wide open. Wozniak had died trying to cover him while blocking the hole in their parameter his grandstanding had caused. The SWAT officer had taken a bullet in his femoral artery as a reward for his bravery. When he had fallen, a gap had opened in the police lines and Jeffers had been quick to try and exploit it.

Lost in thought, Brass silently admitted, /He damned near managed to get away with over fifty cops circling the area. I would not want to be Connors having to explain how his plan fell apart and two cops died as a result. Sam and I were pushed to the background and had no say in the op… despite the fact we were the ones to find the bastard! I tried to warn them… hell, pointing fingers won't change what went down any more than 'what ifs'./

It wasn't that Brass didn't know the danger of unexpected events throwing a wrench into the gears of any operation, no matter how thorough the planning had been. What had infuriated both veteran homicide detectives was the failure to account for some pretty obvious possibilities. The plaza was too open, the places their target could escape had been difficult to cover. Even in the middle of the night, the chance of civilian collateral injury had been too great in his opinion… but the Sheriff had listened to his new SWAT commander's brash optimism and a near disaster had been the result.

In one of those truly ironic twists, one of those ill-considered factors… the possibility of civilian bystanders, had turned out to be the thing that saved the day. Not to put too fine a point on it, what none of them had anticipated was Olivia Dolan. She had taken them all by surprise, none more so than Cody Jeffers.

The singer had been one of the bystanders they had pulled to safety once bullets began to fly. She had been crouching behind a low wall, safe but close enough to the action to see both Stanley and Wozniak go down. Once the line had broken, her safety was no longer assured. The killer had turned in her direction and sprinted toward the parking lot behind the hotel. Jeffers had leveled his gun on a cluster of younger women huddled near her position.

Years of experience told him Dolan had not hesitated in doing what she did. Rather than cower behind the dubious protection of a nearby trashcan and let the other women die, she had thrown her body at his knees… cut his legs out from under him in a move his high school hockey coach would have applauded. She and the women she had saved had then pounced, pinning the furious man to the ground with their bodies as his gun skidded harmlessly away. They appeared to be fine… a little bruised and battered, but fine except for the delayed shock and panic that had set in once the police had relieved them of their prisoner.

Walking over to a cluster of ambulances clogging the breezeway to the parking lot, Brass studied their unlikely heroine. He had seen her perform on more than one occasion, had all of her CD's. Olivia Dolan was a respected singer in the world of jazz, but she had never had the one big hit that catapulted her to stardom before a larger audience. She had a rich, smoky voice that reminded him of the great divas of the heyday of 'American's music', her show a mix of jazz and blues sung with an exquisite blend of passion and feeling.

Dolan had setup shop as a permanent headliner at _The Salon_, one of several nightclubs in the fashionable _Versailles Gardens_ complex nine months earlier. He had made it a point to catch her act at least once a week, his schedule permitting. Friends he had brought along had begun to tease him he was acting like a teenage groupie, lusting after the beautiful singer. He had given up trying to argue, especially since he knew they were right.

Olivia Dolan wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was more than pretty. She was certainly pretty enough to catch more than a few men's eyes if they passed her on the street… pretty enough to make them linger once they noticed. Frankly, most were more likely to notice her figure than her features. She had a body that reminded him of the pin-up queens of the 50's and 60's, not the ultra-thin models that graced the pages of today's fashion magazines reminding him more of effeminate boys than curvaceous women.

Brasshad grown up in the days of Marilyn Monroe and Jane Mansfield, their buxom curves the stuff of his adolescent fantasies. Olivia Dolan had a body to rival either. Even in a pair of old jeans and a black turtleneck sweater, lush was the only word to describe her… lush and sexy as hell.

Her longish auburn hair appeared to be natural… it was shot with undertones of brown and gold… even a little black. A few strands of silvery white gleamed in the unforgiving glare of the crime scene spotlights, hinting she was older than her face betrayed. A closer look confirmed this thought… reminded him he had read somewhere she was in her early forties.

A pair of shimmering blue-green eyes lifted to lock with his deep blue gaze. Jim felt the impact of those eyes like a blow to his midsection. He had only seen her from a distance, preferring the seats on the upper floor of the nightclub to the ones on the crowded main level. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he admitted he had been a frequent member of her audience on his rare nights off as much because she stirred some unnamed emotion in him as for her lovely voice. But, nothing had prepared him for the impact of those eyes, up close and sadly not personal.

After a moment, she whispered, "I know you. Have we met?"

Shaking his head… hoping to clear his thoughts as much as to offer a reply, Brass crouched down in front of her at eye level. "Not really… but I am a fan. I've been coming to your shows whenever I get the chance since you opened last year."

Something seemed to settle into place in her eyes… recognition maybe… anticipation definitely. "Ah… it took me a minute to place you without my contacts. My glasses got knocked off… somewhere and I can barely see past the end of my nose without them. Now that you're closer… you always sit in the balcony at the front center table, right?"

His right eyebrow canted upward in surprise. "You noticed?"

The hint of a smile eased some of the tension on her face. "Yeah, I have… you come to the show pretty regularly, but you've never come down to the main floor to say hello. From the company you keep, I guess you prefer blondes and I'm a redhead… a natural redhead."

His lips quirked into a genuine grin at that bit of information… the underlying flirtation in her choice of words impossible to miss. "I guess I'll have to take your word on that… pending further investigation. I'm Jim Brass by the way. As for the blondes… that would be CSI Willows or Det. Curtis… friends and co-workers. If you mean Grissom, he's not my type for a lot of reasons."

That caused her to laugh softly. "Well, glad to here it. You never come down?"

"I'm shy."

"Shy men don't undress a woman with their eyes," she retorted, holding his gaze effortlessly.

"Is that what I do?"

"Yes… I can feel it even from a distance," Olivia murmured. "I was hoping you might decide to sit a little closer one night soon."

"I've been thinking about it but the view up there is great… nobody gets in my way. Besides, it looked like you had quite a loyal following that monopolized those… closer seats," Brass admitted, his body tingling from the chemistry charging the air around them. In the privacy of his own thoughts, he knew he had never ventured down to the main level assuming he didn't stand a chance of catching her eye. Instead, he had played it safe, preferring to keep the possibility possible rather than face a polite rejection.

Belatedly remembering they were in the middle of a crime scene, he murmured, "I guess fate took a hand…"

Her eyes darkened as the grim reality of the moment crashed down around them. "So it would seem. Are you in charge of this… whatever this was?"

Sighing, Jim admitted, "The primary investigation yes, but tonight's festivities were under the direction of SWAT. In retrospect, maybe the Sheriff should have just recruited you and your friends."

"I have an exclusive contract with _The Salon_'s management and I doubt they would have signed-off," she murmured. "Besides, I don't think I would have been much help if I'd had the time to think about what I was doing."

Seeing the confusion building in her eyes, he knew they needed to run through the chain of events as she saw them before she began to over-think her actions, remembering things through the filter of hindsight. "Want to tell me what happened? I was stuck behind the lines across the way playing bystander, so my view was limited."

"I… I'm not completely sure…" she began, only to falter. "I was scared out of my head. I saw him kill those two officers. I'd never seen anyone die like that… my grandmother slipping away in her sleep at a hospital… not… not murder."

"I've been doing this a lot of years," Jim offered, his tone pitched to sooth her frayed nerves. "You never get used to it. What happened next?"

Nodding faintly, she pointed toward the spot where she had taken shelter from the gunfire. "He ran toward us… I'm sure he saw me. One of the girls hiding a few feet away screamed and he looked their way. I could see his gun… He was going to shoot them!"

"OK… You're doing great." Jim gently prompted, flipping open his notepad to jot down her comments.

"I don't really know how… why I did what I did," she admitted. "We've all been living in fear of this guy for the last two weeks… He **is** the Strip Sniper isn't he?"

"We're still sorting all that out," Jim hedged, needing to get her to focus on her part in their suspect's capture. "You saw him point his gun at the other women…"

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice taking on a slightly dazed quality as she lifted a trembling hand to shove her hair back away from her face. The hand lingered to tentatively rub the back of her head. "I… he killed those officers… I could see it… the blood, it was everywhere. I knew he would kill them too and… I got mad, I guess. I just knew I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't try to stop him… that he had probably seen me anyway, so I had nothing to loose."

"OK… I get that. What next?" Brass pressed, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. He could feel the shivers quaking through her body.

"I was a tomboy growing up… played football with my brothers and their friends," Olivia offered, the hand at the back of her head dropping to catch his in a tight hold. "They taught me how to take out a runner with a body block, so… that's what I did. The next thing I'm sure about… there were police all around us… guns. They pulled us off of him and put handcuffed on him… behind his back."

"Is there anything else you remember… small details? Did he say anything?" he questioned, forcing his concentration to remain on her statement not the feel of her soft hands clutching his… the warmth of her body radiating through the denim covering her lap.

"He was screaming at us… hitting and kicking wildly," she recalled, tightening her grip as if she sensed his struggle to remain detached. "He said he was going to kill us… make us suffer. The others were screaming back at him… spitting on him. I don't remember saying anything… or maybe I was screaming too. I'm not sure."

Troubled blue-green eyes locked with his. He could see the conflicting emotions warring in her mind. "I remember wanting to bash his head into the ground… get that damned gun out of his hands. I've never… it scared me how furious I was. Then, something hit the back of my head. I… I felt dizzy… still do I guess. That's about it… other than what I already said about them pulling us off him."

"Got it," Jim soothed, knowing he had gotten all the information she could provide for the moment. Given the facts of the case, he didn't think there would be much more the police would need from her or the other women before the trial. Her comment about something hitting the back of her head motivated him to insist, "You need to go to the hospital and let them make sure you're OK."

"I'm fine," she began.

"You probably are, but we need to make sure of that," Brass interjected. "You got knocked around and may have been hit harder than you realize. Sometimes, adrenaline and shock mask an injury and I don't want to take any risks you might be hurt. OK?"

"Will you be there?"

His eyebrow rose again at the intensity of her gaze. "I… I have to finish up here… get statements from the others involved. It will be hours before I can call it a night."

"Oh… I'm sorry," she whispered, obviously disappointed he couldn't come with her. "I should have realized you have work to do."

"Duty calls," Brass agreed, still held in the pull of her blue-green eyes. "Do you have someone you can call that can meet you at the hospital? Friend… lover…"

A slight smile. "Friends, no lover. I'll call my twin brother… he's my manager. His wife is my best friend… plays piano in my combo. They'll take care of me."

Hesitating, Jim asked, "You do realize you'll be at the center of a media circus by sunrise don't you? Famous singer tackles a wanted killer before he can shoot several showgirls… it screams headlines. You need to be prepared."

From her expression, it was clear she hadn't thought that far ahead. "Shit! Danny will want to use that to get free publicity. He's not going to be happy with me."

"Free publicity?" Jim prompted, a small smile lighting his face at her reaction. "What's not to like for a manager?"

A tear slipped down her face. "Two men died here. I can't…"

The smile vanished instantly as he realized what he had suggested. Truthfully, it was a bit of a relief she felt that way. He'd always hated media vultures that lived off of other peoples' misery. "I'm sorry… that was crass of me."

Nodding distractedly, Olivia whispered, "It's OK. Do you know if they have families… wives, kids?"

"The two officers?" Seeing her nod, he shook his head. "I didn't know either one of them personally. One was SWAT and the other was out of the Sheriff's office… his detail."

"The second one… the SWAT officer I guess," she began. "He was really brave. He tried to save the first one… block that bastard from getting away."

"Yeah, I saw."

"I guess the first cop… he thought he was doing it right too."

"I'm sure he did," Brass hedged. "They both died in the line of duty. We honor our own."

"So do most of the rest of us," she whispered. Realizing she was keeping him from getting on with his work, she reluctantly let go of his hand. "Be careful. We have enough dead heroes."

Touched by her words, Brass hesitated before rising to return to his duties. Something held him. He could see the shock of the moment had begun to wear off and she was starting to hurt, both physically and emotionally. "Would you mind if I stopped by your place later today… to check on you and make sure you're OK?"

A small smile helped erase some of the strain from her face. "I'd like that, Capt… Jim. I was hoping you might ask for my number, but my address is a good start. I love improvisation."

--

7-20-08


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 1

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 1

Brass entered the lobby of the condominium building where Olivia Dolan lived and paused to straighten his jacket. He had been forced to push his way through the milling throng of reporters jamming the sidewalk in front of the entrance. Most had recognized him, bombarding him with questions and requests for interviews. Once word had spread of her involvement in the arrest of the Strip Sniper, seemingly every reporter within driving distance had joined the feeding frenzy, clamoring for access to the singer turned hero.

Several members of her band had been marshaled to clear the driveway into the building's underground parking when she had arrived home from the hospital earlier in the day. Danny Dolan, her manager, had issued a brief statement on her behalf an hour later thanking the public for their outpouring of support, but making it clear his sister had no plans to give interviews. The statement had thanked the LVPD for its tireless efforts to bring the Strip Sniper to justice, stressing Olivia's sadness at the deaths of the two fallen police officers. It had ended with a rallying call to the residents of Las Vegas to do their part in helping their City recover from their recent shared ordeal.

Jim had caught the news reports when he had taken a much needed breakfast/lunch break in the company of Catherine Willows and Sofia Curtis. The TV's in the small diner had been turned on to allow its patron's to keep up with the latest details of the case. They had been treated like conquering heroes as they walked in the door, the applause and pats on the back from the other patrons taking them by surprise. Their meals had been paid for before they had even ordered… a tab in their names established with the remainder of the money.

CNN and several of the other cable news networks were running non-stop coverage of the Sniper case and Jim's face appeared with great frequency as the reports from the last two weeks were hashed and rehashed. As he had predicted, significant air time had been devoted to running spots on Olivia. One of the reports had included a photograph obviously taken on a cell phone by someone at the scene that morning… a picture of him crouched in front of her, holding her hand. His companions had taken the opportunity to tease him ruthlessly… the terms 'sweet' and 'cute' their favorite adjectives. Either term crawled under his skin… the exact reason they had selected them.

Their teasing had only grown worse when a note from Olivia arrived as they were returning to the station inviting him to dinner 'if he still wanted to stop by'. He had wanted… more than he was prepared to admit. Neither had missed the new burst of energy the invitation produced and he had spent the rest of the day avoiding them and their questionable attempts at humor. Thankfully, he had been too busy to have to try overly hard to dodge them.

The sudden quiet of the lobby was like a breath of fresh air after the noise of the street. Walking over to the concierge desk, he entered his name on the log… her unit his stated destination. A brief, "I'm expected," was his only reply to the security guard's insistence 'Ms. Dolan wasn't receiving callers'. Jim had no doubt the guard had been inundated with calls and requests for access to the singer, but he was too tired to play nice. He stood patiently to the side as the guard called her unit for approval to allow him to come up.

The pressure to find the sniper and stop the random killings that had terrorized the Vegas Strip for the last two weeks had been enormous. Brass hadn't slept in almost five days except for scattered catnaps while he waited for evidence to process or when his secretary had none to gently ordered him to 'get his ass on the couch and take 30'. The cumulative effect of the strain and the lost sleep had left him too depleted to commiserate with the other man's bad day.

As he waited, the events that lead up to the showdown at the _Versailles_ began to replay in his thoughts. The big break he had been looking for came when he received a call from one of his confidential informants. Joey Diaz, a desk clerk at a budget motel north of the Strip, had called in a tip based on something one of the maids had seen.

A man calling himself Al Turner had checked into a room across from the motel's main office a little over a week before the first shooting. Earlier that day, the maid had gone to his room to leave a stack of clean towels. She had seen rifle parts carefully arranged on the top of the bed, her knock having apparently interrupted him while he was in the process of cleaning his weapon.

The maid, Annie Jenkins, had given no indication she had seen anything when she handed the stack of towels through the half-opened door. She had been careful to complete her deliveries to the adjacent rooms, hoping Turner would think he was in the clear. Leaving her cart in the breezeway next to the ice and vending machines, she had gone directly to Diaz. Diaz had called Brass. The pair would be splitting a sizable reward since their tip had led to the Sniper's arrest.

Brass had been a few blocks away chasing another fruitless lead when Diaz had called. Acting on instinct that this was 'the one', he had gone directly there without waiting for backup. His CI had been adamant the maid was reliable… and they had desperately needed a break.

Walking into the hotel's uninspired lobby, Brass had found Diaz and the maid hovering near the side window watching the line of rooms across a dusty courtyard. Following the man's pointing finger, Brass's tired senses had begun to tingle. A blue 2003 Ford Focus was parked in front of Turner's room… a vehicle matching the description of one seen leaving the area after one of the sniper attacks. The car seemed to glow like a big blue 'Come and Get Me' beacon.

He had immediately called in the tag number and requested full backup. While he had waited, he had slipped around the back of the motel… only to discover the window to the room rented to Turner was open, the screen pushed out. His suspect had likely fled before he had even arrived at the motel, but Brass had been incensed by how close he had been to nabbing him without more people being hurt.

A check of buses serving the area confirmed that a man fitting Turner's description had boarded a bus a few blocks away shortly after his encounter with the maid. The driver had remembered him because he was carrying a large duffle bag and a smaller backpack that had blocked the aisle near the door. She had threatened to evict him from the bus if he didn't get them out of the way so queuing passengers could board. Other than sending her a frosty glare, he had said nothing as he disappeared into the back of the bus. She had not seen him get off, but the bus had been heading north at the time.

Obtaining a warrant to search both the room and car had been easy under the circumstances. A thorough sweep of the motel room had turned up two pieces of vital information, a pay stub from Versailles Enterprises and a fingerprint. Armed with a sketch based on the description provided by Diaz and Jenkins, Brass followed the trail of the pay stub to a newly hired maintenance man at_ Mirrors_, the casino-hotel at the heart of the _Versailles _complex. His suspect was due to come on duty at 4:30 the following morning.

The fingerprint had yielded a formal identification of their suspect … Cody Jeffers, a stuntman from LA. Jeffers had prior collars for domestic disturbance and a DUI. A call to Brass's former colleague and lover, Annie Kramer, had gotten the LAPD involved. They had tracked down several known associates of their suspect, providing the investigation with another major piece of the puzzle. Jeffers was a marksman who regularly competed in national trials, good enough that he had once been an alternate on the US Olympic team.

The decision was quickly made to apprehend him as he entered the employee entrance of the _Versailles_ complex early the next morning. The SWAT commander Alan Connors was put in charge of planning and executing Jeffers' arrest. Connors was new to the LVPD and had been eager to take the spotlight away from Homicide in what had become a major international story. The resulting near ciaos that morning had been the result.

Nodding his head in response to the guard's grudging announcement that he was welcome to come up… that the Dolan condo was on the eleventh floor, unit 1107, Jim turned toward the elevator. /No drama in a straightforward arrest. Jeffers had to go down messy in full view of at least a few bystanders that could 'ooh and ah' at Connor's daring. Stanley shouldn't have been within ten miles of the action, but Connors wanted to score as many points as he could with the Sheriff and give Burdick's golden boy a slice of the glory. Now he gets to explain it all to IAB… couldn't have happened to a more deserving fuck-up./

In the hours following the arrest, Brass had been pulled hastily to one side by McKeen, /miserable son-of-a-bitch, and told to salvage the operation by whatever means necessary. The amateur hour was over; he was back in charge. It had taken the combined efforts of both Homicide and CSI, but Jeffers had finally copped to being the Strip Sniper. All the 'i's' had been dotted and the 't's' crossed despite the need to move quickly; it looked like all of the evidence would be admissible despite any effort Jeffers' lawyers might make to get it excluded.

/A grudge against Vegas because his wife's gambling addiction ended their marriage and left him bankrupt… hell of a reason to kill ten innocent people/ he silently growled.

The full extent of Connor's blunder at the _Versailles_' service plaza had been missed by the press. Brass had been careful to keep them focused on the capture of the Strip Sniper, so that no embarrassing questions were asked. None of the civilians at the scene had seen exactly what had happened… expect for Olivia Dolan. The four showgirls had been the closest to the action, but they had been huddled in fear, too afraid to lift their heads to see the deadly exchange. Olivia appeared to be more concerned with honoring Joe Wozniak' bravery than exposing Stanley's glory grab… she had not spoken to the press, so her unique perspective hadn't been revealed.

Given how the day began, Brass had ironically ended his shift as the man of the hour. He and his fellow detectives had stood dutifully behind the Sheriff as he held a news conference, his face suitably grim as the two dead officers were eulogized as fallen heroes. He had betrayed none of his anger as the Sheriff had lauded Stanley for his valor. The slight nod of agreement he had given to the words of praise heaped on Joe Wozniak's actions was the only thing that betrayed his actual feelings and only his fellow officers would have understood… most felt the same way.

Straightening his tie, Brass stepped out of the elevator and walked over to the door of the apartment. It opened within seconds of his knock. A little boy with bright red hair peered up at him as he announced, "You must be Capt. Bass. Aunt Ivvie says you're a her'row… got the bad man that hurt people."

Smiling slightly at the lisping quality of the child's speech… two missing front teeth gave his words a little too much air, Jim crouched down to talk to the child at eye level. "Yeah, I'm Capt. Brass. Who are you?"

"Daniel Dolan… but you can call me DJ. I'm four," he supplied, sending a guilty look over his shoulder as his name was called by a woman walking in their direction. "It's Capt. Bass, Mommie… I asked furst."

"DJ Dolan! You know better than to open the door without your daddy or me being with you!" the pretty blond scolded. "What if it hadn't been Capt. Brass? You could get hurt not listening to us."

"But, I heard you tell Aunt Ivvie it was…"

"That isn't an excuse. No means no," his mother lectured. "Now, go play. We'll have dinner in a little while once the Captain has had a chance to relax. Scoot!"

A near toothless grin turned in his direction before the child ran across the room and disappeared into a large, overturned shipping box… the kind used for large appliances. The sight made the smile on Brass's face deepen as it conjured up memories of similar 'forts' from his own childhood.

Rising back to his feet, Brass accepted the hand extended in his direction. "I'm Abby Dolan, Capt. Brass. Please come in."

"Jim, please."

Nodding, she offered, "Liv's been resting in her room, but she'll be out in a minute. Danny, DJ, and I are spending the night just in case she needs something. The doctor doesn't want her to go to sleep for a few more hours and she needs to be watched to make sure there aren't any complications."

"How is she doing?" Brass asked, stepping into a comfortably furnished living room. A quick look around hinted that the owner was more concerned with having a welcoming and inviting retreat than a showplace.

He felt a little of the tension that had been building between his shoulder blades fade at the friendly reception he was receiving. He had been unsure of what to expect… unsure of what the invitation meant. Given Olivia's flirtatious remarks that morning… the invitation to dinner, he was hoping she might be receptive to an invitation of his own… dinner and an honest to God date.

/Is it a good or bad sign she has chaperones? Maybe she was just being polite…?

Abby's reply broke into his musing. "She has a slight concussion… probably kicked on the back of her head during the scuffle to subdue Jeffers. There's a nasty bruise on her right knee that's causing it to swell painfully."

"I was afraid she might be hurt worse than she was saying," Jim offered. "She told me she was dizzy and it was obvious the back of her head was hurting her. I didn't realize she'd hurt her knee too."

Shaking her head in a combination of frustration and amusement, she reported, "She didn't tell anyone it was hurting… tried to leave once she got to the hospital without seeing the doctor, but everybody knew as soon as she tried to stand. Danny's been hassling her she's out of practice at throwing a body block… she landed squarely on her knee on that concrete. Thankfully, nothing seems too serious… no cranial bleeding, no broken bones, nothing torn. She'll be sore for a few days… maybe a week, but she'll be fine. Scared the hell out of Danny and me when she called."

Nodding, Jim admitted, "If it wasn't for hers and the other ladies bravery, that call might have been a lot worse."

"Yeah, we got that part eventually," she agreed, a shudder of remembered fear shivering down her spine. "Neither one of us will tell you it was that big a shock that she did what she did. Once you get to know Liv, you won't be surprised by her doing stuff like that. If she sees something wrong, she wants to make it right; Danny's the same. Their dad was a Marine MP, so it was drilled into them from the cradle."

Quirking an eyebrow, Brass asked, "She makes a habit of apprehending killers?" He hadn't missed the implied assumption he would be around beyond the one evening. /Maybe that means…/

His response earned him a big grin. "Close. A few years ago, one of her backup singers was involved in an abusive relationship with a real loser. Bastard… all 6'8" of solid muscle, tried to hit Kelly in front of Liv and he found himself on the floor with a huge knot on the side of his head. She used her pocketbook like a bat and took him down. I could tell you other stories…"

"A pocketbook took him down?" he questioned, letting the mental image of Olivia as the avenging angel with a Prada purse form in his mind.

Grinning devilishly as she warmed to her subject, Abby shook her head. "Not the **pocket**book itself… the real book inside. She loves to read… their mom was a school teacher, so that's another family legacy. Anyway, that day there was a thick, hardcover book in her bag. Bastard she clocked must have been seeing stars for hours after she let him have it. He tried to have her arrested for assault, but the cop… urrr, policeman that took the call laughed in his face and told him 'to get while the getting was good'. It would have been funny if Kelly hadn't been sporting a black eye and bruises from the night before."

"Was that the end of it?" Brass asked, all too familiar with the patterns of an abusive relationship. As a homicide detective, he saw them more than most.

"My husband and a couple of the guys from her band paid him a surprise visit and suggested he steer clear of Kelly and Liv if he knew what was good for him. He was the type of bully that could beat up his girlfriend, but backed down quickly if challenged by other men," she reported. "He ended up on the wrong side of a gun when he tried to rough up another girl he was dating a year or so later. Liv and Kelly insisted on testifying on her behalf. She was got off on a justifiable thanks to them."

"She was lucky they were willing to help her. Most women in that situation would either be the ones in the morgue or they would be doing time for killing the bastard," he commented. "Abusive men seldom change."

"Sad, but true," Abby agreed, pointing the way to a comfortable looking sofa. "Have a seat while I go help Liv. I know she heard the front door, so she'll be waiting… impatiently waiting if I know Diva."

She paused at the door of what he assumed was Olivia's bedroom to look back at him. The teasing grin she shot his way preceded, "Not that you haven't been keeping her waiting for months now. Shy I believe she said. You cover it well."

Chuckling, he retorted, "Years of practice. Bashful cops don't get the job done."

"Hummm… I suspect you're about as bashful as Olivia," she mused, her brown eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter. "Now, there's a terrifying thought!"

/Well, that has to be a good sign! …doesn't it? Damn, I hate feeling like a clueless 16 year old!/

--

A/N: I have several chapters written, so I'll update soon! Thanks for reading!! Feedback appreciated!

8/2/08


	3. Chapter 3

Improvisation -- Chapter 2

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 2

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 2

--

DJ's head poked out of his makeshift fort as he heard their visitor take a seat on the couch. "Are you really a polzman?

"Yep… want to see my badge?"

The child quickly clamored up onto the couch next to him and watched with big blue-green eyes… eyes that reminded Brass of the boy's aunt, as he withdrew his badge from his breast pocket. Handing it to the little boy, he sat back to watch DJ's fascinated inspection.

Small fingers gently traced the details of the star-shaped shield. "My ganddaddy was a polzman."

Noting that the child had used the past tense as had his mother, Brass decided to tread carefully around what was obviously a sensitive topic. "Your mom told me. Did he let you see his badge?"

Nodding, the boy admitted, "I misses him and Gam."

"I'm sorry."

"Our parents were in a car wreck last year… we lost them both. We still haven't come to terms with loosing them like that… no warning, just gone."

Looking to his left, Brass found they had been joined by a decidedly masculine version of Olivia. Two Welch Corgis sat at his feet wagging their stubby tails happily as he bent to remove their leaches. Once they were free, they bounded over to sit in front of the sofa watching DJ's every move.

Assuming the man was her twin as well as DJ's father, Jim rose stiffly to his feet. His body was beginning to ache as exhaustion took its toll. Extending his hand, he greeted, "Jim Brass. You must be Olivia's brother."

"Danny Dolan," the younger man agreed. "Sit… you look like you're about to drop."

Brass easily recognized the narrowed-eyed scrutiny he was receiving. He had been the same way with his sisters when any new boy… then man, came prowling around. They had laughed at his attempts to be a tough guy since he was two years younger than the youngest of his sisters. Still, he understood the motivation and respected the protective attitude it showed toward his twin.

Raking a weary hand across the top of his head… subconsciously noting how far his hairline had retreated in recent years compared to the other man's full head of auburn hair, Brass admitted, "Frankly, I am. None of us got a lot of sleep once that bast… jerk began his rampage. Now that he's locked up, I'm feeling every hour I missed."

Grinning at the guilty look the policeman was sending in his son's direction, Danny found himself relaxing as he got a sense of the man. His sister's instincts about other people were usually uncanny. The few men she had been seriously involved with over the years had been good, solid men… just not 'the one' she was ultimately looking to find. Those relationships had run their course and she had retained their friendship even after the passion waned. He knew he couldn't make a similar claim about either the caliber of the women he had dated or the aftermath of those affairs.

Until he met his wife, his own track record had been worse than bad. When Liv had introduced him to Abby, she had whispered a stern 'don't blow this one Danny… she's the one,' in his ear. She had been right, a fact she wasn't shy about reminding him.

The family was beginning to wonder if any man would ever capture Olivia's heart. She had never lacked for potential dates, but she had always been selective about the men she agreed to go out with. The night she had first pointed to Brass in the balcony waiting for her show to begin had caught Danny completely off guard. He had never seen his twin react so keenly to someone she didn't even know.

Frankly, Liv had been fascinated by this man for months… something about him calling to her even at a distance. If he was being completely honest with himself, a part of him wanted to ask what she found so appealing about the detective. The man wasn't handsome by any conventional standard, although his wife insisted he was definitely attractive.

Even if he accepted the 'definitely attractive' argument… and that was still an 'if', Brass was probably at least an inch shorter than his twin, his hair was going thin on top, and he was at least ten years older than they were. He had a hard edge to his demeanor, not surprising given his profession. Their dad had had that quality too, so maybe that was part of the attraction. Liv saw beyond the façade, just as their mother had when she looked at her husband.

/Women go for men that remind them of their fathers, right? Must be it… at least part of it/ he mused.

He and his wife had been watching the pair from the sidelines since Olivia had predicted they were destined to meet. Both had rolled their eyes at her theatrical mannerisms, common in even the most mundane of situations… 'Diva' had been her nickname even as a child. That particular pronouncement had been over the top even for her.

Olivia had only smiled when he had played the Doubting Thomas, pointing out her admirer had yet to approach her in nine months of watching. Timing, she had said, was everything… fate would eventually tip the scales in their direction. He hadn't known whether to be amused or irritated at her blithe response… had only been sure it was vintage Olivia.

Abby wasn't by nature as patient as his twin and had resolved to take a hand in getting them on the same floor at least if one of them didn't make a move soon. Fate, it seemed, had decided to keep her out of the mix… something Danny considered to be a very good thing if he wanted to keep peace in his family; Olivia preferred to be the meddler not the meddle-e. In the most unlikely of ways, the pair had finally met… which meant his sister had been right once again. Another of her predictions being right was something he could have lived without.

Whether or not he admitted it, Danny possessed the same intuitive ability to 'size a person up' as his twin. He knew he had just met Brass and that the other man was not likely to be at his best given recent events. /He doesn't look like he's slept in days./ Still, he found himself liking the man. /Maybe Liv was right about that too… DAMN!!/

The two women chose that moment to enter the room. Danny instantly noticed the flair of new life that lit Brass's tired blue eyes as his sister came into view. He didn't have to look to know an answering light had charged his twin's gaze. He felt it… the 'twin link' ran strong and true in them.

Both men rose as the ladies slowly made their way over to the couch. Olivia's knee was obviously causing her a good bit of pain though she was trying to hide that from them both. Illness or injury, Olivia hated to appear weak, so they were about the only thing she underplayed.

That too had been a trait acquired from their tough, no-nonsense father. Danny had learned the hard way the more stoic Olivia acted, the worse she felt. He was relieved to note she wasn't in full Spartan mode, which meant her injuries weren't any worse than the doctor had said.

/Scared the hell out of me calling from the hospital/ he silently admitted. /I can't believe she was walking into a dark parking lot late at night alone! What was she thinking? I guess I need to have a talk with the guys about not letting that happen again. Less Liv knows about that the better. She hates being 'babied'. Maybe I should suggest she not drive to work so she can take a taxi home after her last show? Hummm… Joe Gables may be willing to offer up a car to drive her home… I need to…/

Refocusing on the present, Danny moved to their sides and carefully lifted Olivia into his arms. "You should have waited and let me carry you, Livvie. The doctor told you to stay off that knee for a few days."

Rolling her eyes, Olivia grinned up at their guest as her twin gently settled her on one end of the couch. "It's not that bad… I know my own body better than…"

"Indulge me," her manager inserted. "As long as I'm around, humor me and behave."

DJ waited impatiently until his aunt had been helped into a semi-reclining position, a pillow slipped under her knee, before he proudly showed her the badge. "Capt. Bass let me hold his badge. It's prudy isn't it?"

A slender shaky hand reached out to accept the gold star being offered for her inspection. "Sure is, honey. Did you know the gold color means he's a detective?"

Wide eyes, brimming with respect and awe, turned in Brass's direction. "Weilly? Wow!"

"You do know you have to give it back to him before you go to bed, right?' his mom questioned, amused by the crafty look that ghosted across her son's face as he tried to think of a way to keep his prize. "He has to wear it when he arrests bad men."

"I could go with him…"

"No."

"But…"

"No," his mother repeated, struggling not to smile and bruise 'her little man's' pride. "You may be a big boy now that you're in kindergarten, but you're still not old enough to be a policeman. Now, go with your dad and help him feed Boo and Billie. Then, you both need to get washed up for dinner."

Sighing dramatically, a mannerism that earned him amused shakes of the head from his parents and aunt, DJ turned to Jim. "Can I keep it for now? I'll give it back if you need to go 'rest a bad man before I go to bed."

"Sure," Jim agreed, giving the child as serious a look as he could manage. "I'm off duty until tomorrow, so bedtime is fine."

Satisfied for the moment, the little boy jumped down from his perch next to his aunt. Accepting the badge extended in his direction, he allowed his mom to drape it through the neck of his t-shirt before disappearing into the nearby kitchen to help feed the dogs. The two corgis flanked him as they herded him toward their meal. His smiling parents completed his entourage.

--

Suddenly alone with Olivia, Jim took a moment to study her features hoping to see how she was really doing. It took almost as long for him to realize she was doing the same to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Headache's better… knee's stiff and sore, but nothing too bad," she replied, holding his gaze. "You look like you're about to drop. I'm glad you came over, but… shouldn't you be in bed."

A wicked smile eased the weary lines on his face. "While that sounds… promising, don't you think we should wait until we're alone for that… maybe go out on a date first?"

Her smile matched his. "Did I tell you I have six brothers, all of them older than me… not to mention the guys in my band? Abby and I might not be able to protect you if they heard you making suggestions like that so early in our acquaintance."

"Six?'

"My dad convinced Mom to try once more for his girl… was sure he had his daughter when she got pregnant again," she supplied, a fond, sad smile on her face. "She had drawn the line in the sand… said six was it girl or no girl. It must have been such a shock when Danny was born first! He was so sure he had two daughters to seal their bargain. Mom said he had his eyes clinched shut when I was born until the doctor announced I was a girl."

"My folks had just the opposite… four girls, then me," Jim offered, matching her smile with a nostalgic one of his own. "I had my hands full keeping out of their clutches when I was little. They kept trying to treat me like their baby. I wasn't having any part of that. I had a treehouse in our backyard… my sanctuary."

"Is that why you've been hanging out in the balcony… reminded you of your fort?"

A gust of laughter. "It must be. So, you were your daddy's little princess."

"Yeah, I was… but a princess in pigtails and jeans, not his little doll. He tried so hard to make me into a miniature version of my mom," she recalled. "Mom was beautiful and elegant… his ideal of what a woman was supposed to be. I always thought that was so romantic."

Tilting his head to the side to study his companion, Brass noted, "Little girls grow up, even tomboys. You fit the definition of beautiful and elegant from where I'm sitting."

A soft smile was his reward. "You're being sweet, but…"

"Sweet isn't a word people use to describe me," Jim corrected, resting his elbow against the back of the sofa as a support for his head. "Tell me about your folks. How did they meet?"

"Daddy loved to say he fell head over heels the moment they met at a USO dance before he shipped out for Korea," she replied, the loss of her parents still too raw to keep the emotions out of her voice. "Mom would only smile, but she was just as crazy about him. They corresponded while he was overseas, then eloped a couple of months after he came home. It wasn't until my oldest brother, Ken, came along a year later that either set of grandparents began to forgive them for that. Once the other boys started coming, all was forgiven."

"And you were the darling of them all, right" Brass teased.

That made her laugh again. "Hardly! Both my grandmothers were horrified I was such a tomboy… 'a wild hooligan' according to Nana Beth. Daddy tried his best to encourage me to be more 'lady-like', but he was fighting an uphill battle to get me into a dress most of the time. My brothers thought it was funny and did their best to undermine his efforts. They made poor Danny's life hell by leaving him my dresses and dolls, saying he was supposed to be a girl."

Another laugh. "I feel his pain. Dad worked two jobs so mom could stay home with us, so I was on the only male in the house most of the time… except for his rare nights off. He seemed to know when it had been a rough day because he'd take me out for a little 'man-to-man time'. We'd throw a ball around… practice hockey plays. He taught me to play pool, that type of stuff."

"I thought I might become an only child the day Daddy learned the boys had taught me to play pool… 'No daughter of mine is going to hang out in pool halls… and no son of mine is going to encourage her!'" she recalled, her glee at the memory obvious. "Bobby kept digging the hole deeper by telling Dad I was a natural!"

"So, how did you go from budding pool shark to jazz singer?" Jim prompted, shifting on the couch to face her completely. The muscles of his back were tightening up now that he had begun to relax.

A nostalgic smile preceded, "I've been singing for as long as I can remember, but I think it was one of the happiest days of his life when Daddy discovered I loved to perform. He'd spend hours teaching me little dance routines… encouraged me to play dress-up in old costumes he found at second hand shops. I think it gave him a chance to try to mold me into the little girl of his dreams… complete with the frilly dresses I hated."

Smiling at the mental image that inspired, he asked, "How old were you when you started performing in public?"

A laugh came from the direction of the kitchen. "Mom swore it was the day we were born. Diva was in performance mode most of the time even without Dad's encouragement, but that didn't stop him from egging her on."

"Danny… don't you need to…"

Ignoring his twin's attempt to 'cut him off at the pass', he continued. "Dad would set her up on the coffee table whenever we had company and she would belt out a number complete with dance steps and hand movements. Remind me to show you the home videos… my favorite one is her singing, "Them There Eyes" when she was 5 or 6. The minister and his wife were shocked speechless! Dad kept cutting to them to get their reactions… Mom was behind the couch trying not to laugh at the whole thing!"

Sending a glare in her twin's direction, Olivia noted, "You were just as bad."

"Yeah," he agreed, lifting his son in his arms to carry him to the bathroom to wash up for dinner. "Since I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket and had three left feet, I wasn't encouraged like you were, Diva."

"Diva?" Jim interjected, grinning at the blush sweeping up her throat.

"Don't ever say you weren't given fair warning, Jim," Danny joked, enjoying the rare opportunity to embarrass his twin. "We've called her that since she could walk. She tends to be a little… theatrical. Liv's sweet as they come, but she has way too much flair and flamboyance for one person."

"I'm lying here hurt and…"

"See what I mean?" Danny quickly interjected, grinning down at his giggling son. "She's about to throw her arm over her head and try to look helpless. She's forgetting you saw her in action earlier today and know just how helpless she really is. Drop the drama, Diva, and just go with your lame attempt at sultry. He seems to be buying that one for some inexplicable reason."

A throw pillow from the couch lived up to its name as it bounced off the back of his head. Her giggles at the wounded look her twin directed over his shoulder disappeared as the throb of her headache cancelled out her amusement… until she heard DJ's voice lament, "You just as bad as Aunt Ivvie, Daddy. Mommie says so." Brass's laugh joined hers as father and son closed the bathroom door behind them.

Noting the droop to his shoulders as he settled more comfortably into the corner of the couch, she asked again, "How are you doing… for real? You must be exhausted."

Sighing, he reached up to rub his neck. "I am. I caught the first case, so I was lead for the entire investigation. Fifteen days is a long time to live under that kind of strain. Spree killers… they don't give you time to finish processing one scene before you have another. Stretches resources to the breaking point and everyone is on edge. Just glad to have that son-of-a-bitch in lock-down so we can regroup."

"How much sleep have you had since it all began?"

"Not much," he admitted, "…an hour here and there for the most part for days now. I won't have trouble sleeping tonight."

"Do you need a raincheck? I'd love for you to stay, but only if you're up to it," she pressed. "We can do this another night after you've had time to rest."

Smiling slightly, he promised, "I'm enjoying the company and I'm starving. It'll be nice having a real home-cooked meal for a change. Fast food gets old fast if that's all there is."

"Good… if you're sure."

"I am," he repeated. Taking a deep breath to bolster his resolve, he added, "I'm hoping you might be willing to go out to dinner with me once you're back on your feet."

"I'd like that," she agreed, a pleased smile confirming that fact, "but… this isn't going to be a problem for you is it?"

Puzzled, Jim asked, "What… having dinner with a beautiful, talented woman? I can't see any problem with that."

A soft smile and a faint shake of her head preceded, "I meant going out with me after what happened this morning… since I'm involved in your case."

Frowning slightly, he admitted, "I hadn't given it any thought… but I can't see a problem. You aren't under investigation for anything, so I don't have a conflict of interest in seeing you socially. I took your statement at the scene… that should be all I'll need to wrap up my reports. The DA may have questions, but that doesn't involve me. I turned most of the case over to them today, so my part is winding down rapidly."

A bright smile warmed her face. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that, but I felt I had to ask and be sure. I may try to lead you astray, but I don't want to get you fired in the process."

"Good to know… though my being led astray sounds like a tall order. I've been told I was born that way," he admitted, a slightly devilish smile warning her there was a lot of truth in that statement. "I have to confess… I've been wanting to talk to you for months… maybe ask you out, but…"

"But?"

"I was worried you'd say no," he concluded.

"You weren't likely to get an answer to that question hanging out up in the balcony… especially when you kept bringing babes with you," she teased. "From my point of view, you looked like a player with several ladies on your arm. I so don't like players… no class in my opinion."

Chuckling, he promised, "Catherine and Sofia are friends. Besides, you have more than a few admirers congregating in the front tables… one I work for as a matter of fact."

"Real bastard, that one. You must have noticed I never spent any time with them," she gently scolded, "and I just wanted to be sure about your friends. They're both knockouts."

"So are you."

DJ chose that moment to run back into the room preventing either of them from saying more. Climbing up on the coffee table, he began to sing. "Ivvie and Bass sitting in a tree… K I S S I N G. Furst comes love, then comes marrige… then comes Bass with a baby carrige!"

Dropping her head into her hands as the child began a second verse, Olivia moaned, "Dear God… he's just like his father!"

Brass grinned. Considering how his day had begun, it was ending in a much better place.

--

8-12-08


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 3

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 3

"_Here on the pulse of this new day  
You may have the grace to look up and out  
And into your sister's eyes,  
Into your brother's face, your country  
And say simply  
Very simply  
With hope  
Good morning." _

_  
__Maya Angelou_

--

A muffled groan from the man sleeping on the sofa caused the little boy quietly eating a bowl of cereal to look up expectantly. His mother had repeatedly reminded him to leave Brass alone and let him sleep, but the small child had wanted to wake his new friend and see if he would play 'tective with him before he left of kindergarten. Seeing the man shift slightly and fall back into a deep sleep, DJ sighed and returned to his meal. His parents seemed to think the man would be coming around a lot in the future… something about his aunt, so he would have to wait until later for his game.

--

The smell of coffee and bacon finally penetrated the deep sleep into which he had fallen the night before. Struggling to remember where he was, much less who would be cooking breakfast, Brass slowly opened his eyes. The living room was unfamiliar… and oddly familiar at the same time, but the owner's identity continued to elude him. A large cardboard box dominated part of the floor space, providing the clue he needed to remember the night before.

He had returned to the couch to talk with Olivia after supper, only to find it impossible to keep his eyes open. It hadn't taken too much urging on Olivia's and her sister-in-law's parts to convince him to spend the night on the couch rather than risk driving home in his exhausted condition. Besides, they had reminded him the swarm of reporters outside her building had continued to grow since his arrival. He had not been up to the challenge of fending off questions.

A quick glance at the clock on the mantle showed it was a lot later than he had expected. He seldom slept for more than 4 or 5 hours a night anymore. If his memory was to be trusted, he had slept for over 10 hours the preceding night… though that tally failed to put much of a dent in the deficit he had accumulated over the last couple of weeks. He felt oddly disoriented and confused… still tired and grumpy.

Then he remembered something that helped focus his senses. Since this was Olivia's apartment, it was logical to assume Olivia was probably close by. A last of the cobwebs blanketing his brain began to melt away at that thought.

A small grin eased the lines time, guilt, and depression had worn into his features. Jim took a moment to try and recall the last time he had felt… excited and even optimist about a new day. He gave up after a few minutes, accepting that it had been too long ago for him to remember.

The ache in his shoulder from the hours he had spent sleeping on it finally registered on his conscious mind and he hesitantly rolled onto his back. Sighing in relief, he let his eyes sweep around the room looking for his hostess. He found her, a lot closer than he had expected, sitting in the club chair near his feet. An oversized ottoman had been pulled up to support her knee and she was attempting to read a book cradled in her lap.

Attempting seemed to be a good description since her eyes were fixed on him, not the tome in her lap. A soft smile curled her lips… lit her eyes, as she saw his gaze settle on her and he felt his breath catch in reply. Her auburn hair still looked sleep tussled as it framed her face… a face devoid of all make-up… a face that needed no make-up. She was wearing an old, oversized sweater pulled on over a baggy pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt. A vivid bruise purpled the skin over her right knee and was mirrored by a scattering of others on her legs and the exposed portions of her arms.

Bruises and all, Brass was quite sure he had never seen anyone as beautiful as Olivia in the morning. He was equally sure he wouldn't mind waking up on a regular, maybe even daily basis to the sight of her smiling face. The only changes he would make to the moment would be for them to share that smile over a pillow not the end of her couch… /well, and no bruised knees, concussions, and chaperones… definitely no chaperones!/

--

Olivia felt a silly little smile tug at her lips as she watched Jim wake and finally spot her spying on him from a nearby chair. Danny had rolled his eyes but said nothing as he had helped her get settled so she could 'read' before he had left to take DJ to school. A smirking Abby had silently placed a cup of coffee on the table that separated the couch from her chair before retreating into the kitchen to start a late breakfast.

She had been sitting there for the past hour simply enjoying watching him sleep. That might not make sense to most people since they had only met… really met, the day before, but it made all the sense in the world to her. She had been waiting for months to meet him. Now that they had, she had no intention of watching him walk away. She had never been shy about going after something she wanted and what she wanted now was the chance to get to know him.

It had bothered her deeply to see how tired and worn he had been the night before. It was obvious he hadn't been taking care of himself for weeks… maybe longer. She saw… understood the lines on his face for what they were. Olivia had no illusions he didn't have more than his fair share of wounds weighing him down like invisible chains around his neck. Most of them she doubted he would ever be able to cast off, but she was determined to help him wiggle free of as many as he could.

As much as it would likely worry her twin… not to mention her five other brothers, she had come to a conclusion as she sat and watched Brass sleep. Her instincts had been right… he might very well be 'the one'. This was a new day and she intended to make the most of it and hope it led to more.

Very simply, she whispered, "Good morning."

--

Brass resisted the urge to glace over his shoulder, the prickling sensation that he was being watched clawing down his back. He had come in to work a few hours early needing to finish up the paperwork on the Jeffers case so that he could try and wrap up any loose ends before the end of his shift. He refused to look back… but the looks he was getting from those in front of him made him wonder what was up.

Closing the door to his office behind him, he sorted through the stack of messages waiting for him. Finding several from the Sheriff, he glanced at the clock on his bookshelf. The last message had instructed him to report to his office as soon as he arrived. Sighing, he quickly looked through the rest and set the ones he would need to return first on the top of the stack before exiting his office through the side door.

As he walked between buildings, he reflected on his day. He had enjoyed a long, leisurely brunch with Olivia and her sister-in-law before he had taken Liv up on her offer of a toothbrush, a razor… /first time I ever used a hot pink razor, but it did the job/… and a hot shower. The clothes he had been wearing had been ones he had changed into before leaving the station the evening before, so they weren't too bad… adequate for the ride home at least.

He had managed to slip out of the rear entrance to her building without attracting any unwanted attention from the press core camped out on her doorstep. His car was parked in a nearby municipal parking garage, so he hadn't been worried it might be towed… not that it was likely they would tow a police captain's car under any circumstance. Brass had arrived home in the early afternoon and spent the rest of the day relaxing on his back porch, finishing a book he had started the weekend before Jeffers began his rampage. The Sheriff had ordered him to turn off his phone and rest… an order he was more than happy to follow. He had arrived at the LVPD stationhouse feeling as good as he had in ages.

Spotting Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows walking toward the entrance to the CSI facilities, he waved. The gloom that had hovered over the Crime Lab since the murder of Warwick Brown had all but sapped the life out of the night shift team. The open case haunted them all… the few clues they had uncovered were unsettling at best. The Strip Sniper case had taken his full attention for two weeks, keeping him from making any progress on finding the killer. He had reported for shift that night with the goal of cleaning up any loose ends on the Jeffers arrest so he could refocus his attention on finding his friend's killer.

The grins that lit both of their faces as they returned his wave were a welcome sight after weeks of somber depression… even if those grins made him nervous… very nervous. His sense of unease deepened as they both changed course to intercept him before he could enter the main building housing the Sheriff's office. Clearly, something had happened to put them in a better mood.

"You dog!"

Both eyebrows shot up. "Pardon?"

Catherine reached out to playfully punch his arm. "You old dog. You sure moved quick."

A half shake of his head failed to help that comment make any more sense than her first one had. "What the hell are you talking about?"

His two friends and colleagues traded an amused look. Gill demanded, "You honestly don't know?"

"Know what?"

"You're the hot topic of the day, stud," Catherine replied, giving him an exaggerated wink. "Honestly, Jim… did you think you could walk into her building in full view of several dozen reporters and nobody would notice when you didn't come back down… were seen slipping out the back door after noon today? I knew you were interested in the lady, but… damn, you move fast!"

Groaning, Jim felt his shoulders sag. "Please tell me you're joking… that you're just trying to get a rise out of me?"

"I don't think either of us is the one that's been getting a rise out of you, Capt. Brass," Grissom quipped, pleased by the sputter of laughter from the woman at his side at his double entendre.

"Damn," Brass muttered, a faint flush deepening the ruddy tones of his face. "Are you saying… this was in the news?"

"In the entertainment sections of all the local papers, as well as, _Good Morning, Vegas… _'the stoic cop and the sultry jazz diva'_,_" Catherine supplied. "You really don't know? You didn't turn on the TV at all… glace at a paper?"

"I was told to turn off my phone and relax…" he began.

"You sure know how to follow orders," Catherine observed, new laughter bubbling up as the faint red coloring on his throat deepened to the shade of a beet.

"It's not what you're thinking," Brass insisted, reaching up to rub his neck in a frustrated manner. "I went by to see how Liv was doing… she'd invited me to dinner… remember, Catherine? After we ate, I crashed. I slept on her couch, nothing more to report, OK?"

Trading another look with his partner in crime, Grissom demanded, "You're telling us nothing else happened? You're alone with a beautiful woman you've been lusting after for most of the last year and… that's it?"

"Do you have any idea how little sleep I had for the last two weeks?" Brass asked, more than a little uncomfortable having his almost love-life the topic of speculation by his friends and colleagues, much less the greater Vegas viewing area. He had new empathy for what Grissom had endured when the news of his affair with Sara Sidle broke in the wake of her abduction. "And, it wasn't like we were alone either. Her twin brother is her manager. He was there all night, along with his wife and their 4-year old son. DJ even slept in Liv's room, so we were chaperoned at every turn… OK?"

"Why were they there?" Catherine questioned, wiping a few tears from her eyes as she tried to stop giggling. "Didn't her brother trust you with her?"

"Liv has a slight concussion and a nasty bruise on her right knee from yesterday morning," Brass defended. "They were there to look after her and make sure there weren't any complications from the concussion. They ended up with me to take care of too."

"Is she OK?" Grissom asked, his voice finally taking on a more serious tone.

"Yeah, she'll be fine in a few days, but… nothing happened," Jim repeated. "Hell, I was out for the count, but I appreciate your confidence in my recuperative powers."

"I figured after a year…" Catherine began.

"Yeah, yeah," Brass retorted. "I'm a wuss… no staying power."

"I wouldn't have called you a wuss… exactly," she teased, an oddly intimate grin lighting her face.

"Thanks… I feel so reassured," he complained. "Well… this explains the looks I was getting, not to mention the stack of messages from the Sheriff. I suddenly feel like a fifth-grader being called to the principle's office."

"Yeah, but instead of being caught cheating on a test… you slept thought it," Grissom concluded, turning to walk away. Catherine lost her battle with containing her amusement and began to laugh once again.

"With friends like you guys…"

--

Brass barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling as he stepped into the Sheriff's reception area. All eyes had swung in his direction and their unasked questions hovered in the air. Ignoring it all, he walked over to Burdick's secretary and asked her to let the Sheriff know he was there. Before he could take his customary seat to wait and wait some more, he was told to go right in.

/Well… that can't be good/ he mused, nodding his head in response to the instructions.

The door to the office had barely closed behind him when he was hit by, "What the hell were you thinking screwing a witness with a hundred reporters outside to listen in?"

"Excuse me?" Brass demanded, stunned by the crass question.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me, Jim," Burdick bit out. "You let your dick do your thinking and compromised my office's reputation not to mention your credibility. Olivia Dolan's is shot…"

"And why the hell would that be the case?" Brass retorted, his temper flaring in response to the unwarranted attack. "She risked her life and saved those showgirls from being shot. She saved your ass too by preventing Jeffers from getting away after you golden boys screwed the pooch. As for anything else, you should know better than to get your facts from the press."

"You saying you didn't spend the night at her apartment?"

"Where I spend my nights is none of your damned business." Brass growled. "But for the record, I was invited to dinner, which I enjoyed in company of not only Ms. Dolan, but her twin brother and his family. You may find it of interest to know she has an adorable 4-year old nephew named DJ."

Jim continued, ignoring Burdick's attempt to respond. "It might have escaped your notice, but I worked nearly around the clock for the last two weeks, so I crashed on her couch once we ate. Nothing more titillating than that happened. Her family was also there all night in case she had problems from the injuries she sustained in taking Jeffers down, so propriety was maintained by any Victorian standard you want to name. Satisfied?"

"Her family was there?"

Ignoring the change in his superior's tone, Brass bristled, "Yeah, like I said."

"She was injured? Why didn't I know this before?" Burdick demanded, an odd gleam lighting his eyes. "How bad?"

"She sustained a blow to her head during the struggle to subdue Jeffers… gave her a mild concussion," Brass bit out, still too mad to back down. "She landed on her right knee when she cut his legs out from under him… has a huge bruise and swelling that makes moving painful and difficult. Even if I hadn't been out on my feet, I think I can restrain myself from making moves on an injured woman… even one as beautiful as Olivia Dolan… and I resent the implication I would behave otherwise."

"Calm down, Jim" Burdick demanded, starting to turn away. "We can still salvage this mess. All we need to do is issue a clarification…"

"Like hell we will," Jim inserted, refusing to allow Burdick to play politics with his personal life. "If Liv wants to issue a statement, I'll gladly support her, but this has nothing to do with you or anybody else in this building. She isn't under investigation and hasn't committed any crime, so my relationship with her is nobody's business but ours. My personal life is outside of your purview."

"Not when it interferes with an active investigation…"

"What active investigation? I arrested Jeffers yesterday morning at 4:17 a.m. and I got a signed confession to all 10 murders before I left last night," Brass recounted. "I turned most of the files over to the DA on my way over to her place. Liv's statement was taken within minutes of Jeffers' arrest and the facts it contains was corroborated by half-a-dozen others. That ended any professional involvement we might have had. Our seeing each other after that doesn't compromise squat."

"Liv?"

"Yeah, Liv."

"You're… seeing her?" Burdick repeated, clearly stunned by this development. "This was more than a post-shooting… emotional reaction on her part?"

"What the hell? First you call her a slut for sleeping with me the first night we met; now I'm an adrenaline fuck… or was that a pity lay?" Brass correctly summarized, too furious to take a deep breath and regroup. "She doesn't deserve this and I don't need the bullshit. I'm…"

Reaching out to grab his arm, Burdick growled, "As long as you work for the LVPD, your conduct is always under my purview. If things were as innocent as you say…"

"I have work to do…" Brass began, pulling his arm free of Burdick's hold.

"Not unless I say you do," the Sheriff inserted. "You're on two weeks unpaid leave for insubordination. You'll return to duty only after an investigation substantiates your accounting of events. Now get out of here, before I fire your ass once and for all."

--

8-18-08


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 4

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 4

--

The knock at his door broke the moody silence that had held since he arrived home after his blowout with the Sheriff. A bottle of Scotch sat on the kitchen counter, the seal cracked and a double shot poured, but he had yet to take the first sip. The untouched glass sat next to his chair, the melting ice diluting the single-malt's taste.

Frowning, Brass considered ignoring the knock, mentally telling whoever was invading his refuge to go to hell and leave him alone. A second knock, this one more forceful, forced him to his feet. Swinging the door open, the angry words that had collected on the tip of his tongue melted away.

"Olivia? What… how did you get here?" Brass demanded, reaching out to offer her his arm so that she could limp inside.

"I gave her a ride."

Glancing back to the doorway, Jim frowned at Grissom as he closed the door behind them. "She doesn't need to be pulled into this…"

"She is standing right here and can speak for herself," Olivia inserted, gratefully allowing him to help her to the couch. "Gil kindly offered me his assistance in getting here. We were both worried about you, so sit down and tell us what happened?"

Sighing, Jim stared down into her expressive blue-green eyes. "I… Do either of you want a drink? I opened a bottle of Glenlivit when I got home."

"Is there any left?" Grissom asked, dropping into the chair Brass had been using.

"What the hell does that mean?" Jim retorted, his anger seeking an outlet. Pointing to the glass, he added, "That's the only drink I poured and I haven't touched it. Satisfied?"

"I'm withholding judgment pending your answer to Olivia's question," the entomologist responded, refusing to be goaded into an argument. "Word around the station is you and Burdick had a big blowout and he put you on unpaid leave pending an investigation of your alleged affair with a witness. Care to set the record straight?"

"Why bother. That about sums it up," Jim grumbled.

A soft hand reached up to grab his, drawing his attention back to her. "He put you on unpaid leave… because of me?"

Taking a seat next to her, Brass gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm on leave for insubordination. Burdick and I have never gotten along even when he was still one of the 'rank and file'. Since he took office, he's become an even bigger ass."

"So… what happened?" Gil repeated.

"He heard the news reports and took them as gospel," Brass supplied, sticking to the basic facts and leaving out the details. "I took exception to his comments and his attitude… and it went down-hill from there."

"Damn… I was afraid this would happen."

Holding her gaze, Jim whispered. "You were savvier about this than I was, beautiful, but this isn't your fault. Hell, nothing like the rumors implied happened last night, so neither one of us has anything to explain or apologize for."

"You'd have nothing to apologize for even if the evening had been exactly like the rumors," Grissom inserted. "Olivia isn't a suspect and the events of… was it only yesterday? Anyway, the events aren't affected by your pursuing a personal relationship in the aftermath. You're both single and, unless I'm grossly misinformed, unattached… obviously attracted to each other. It's none of the Sheriff's business if you decide to see each other."

Relaxing slightly, Jim offered, "I said as much, but Burdick didn't agree. I'm on two weeks unpaid for insubordination, my return to duty dependent on an investigation into my conduct following the arrest of Jeffers."

"Were you?" Grissom asked.

"What? Insubordinate?" Seeing his friend nod, Brass shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I was, but I guess it depends on your perspective. I thought what he said was completely out of line and I had the right to respond. He didn't see it that way."

"What did he say?" Olivia pressed.

Smiling to soften his refusal to say more, Jim shook his head. "Let's leave it at he was out of line and said some things I found offensive… OK?"

"Like what?"

"Liv… I don't want to get into what he said," Brass admitted. "He'd already made up his mind about what had happened and was prepared to believe the worst of both of us. His reaction was way of out proportion to the alleged offense in my opinion."

"Is that because of me?" she demanded, frustration with his avoidance of her questions beginning to darken her eyes.

"Maybe," Jim hedged. He'd noticed the Sheriff was a regular at her shows, his wife nowhere in evidence. Burdick was usually in the company of several cronies, his attention to the lovely singer bordering on harassment. "I've seen how he acts when he comes to your shows. So has Gil. It occurred to me he was jealous you've never given him the time of day and I rated an invitation to your place."

"You rate across the board, he doesn't," she responded. "It makes me sick to see a married man hitting on any woman that catches his eye, especially when he gets mad when she tells him to get lost."

"OK… you're telling us he did more than make an ass of himself at the club?" Jim demanded. "Exactly what does 'he gets mad' mean?"

Sighing, she admitted, "He managed to get backstage one night… he was drunk and looking for a little action. I told him to go home to his wife… if she'd still have him. He was furious… started to get rough when the guys from my band heard loud voices from my dressing room. They none to gently tossed him out on his sorry ass."

"Damn! Why didn't you file a complaint?" Jim exclaimed.

"I considered it, but… I decided it wouldn't be worth the hassle," Liv replied. "He hadn't done anything more than grab me by the arms… shook me a little. The guys arrived before it went further. Danny and Joe Gables… the _Salon_'s manager, paid him a visit and advised him to stay away from me unless he wanted his conduct splashed across the front page of the paper."

"And… that was the end of it?" Jim pressed, determined to know just how bad the situation had been.

"Well… I spotted him hanging around the parking lot on several occasions afterwards," she concluded. "It was months before I left without one of the guys from the band escorting me home after my last show. Danny's still livid with me for being on my own yesterday."

"Yeah… why was that?" Jim prompted, his tone making it clear he was just as concerned with her taking that risk.

"I walked out with several people," she insisted, a soothing caress to his hand underscoring her tone. "Most of the people that were in the area yesterday morning work in one of the clubs at _Versailles_. I always make sure there are other people in the area before I leave, OK?"

"Not by a long shot… but we'll talk about that later," he deferred. "Did Burdick get physical with you… the truth?"

"Nothing more than I've already said… but he did rough up one of the waitresses… Josie Washington," she recalled. "He'd cornered her in the back… pulled her into one of the storerooms. He seemed to think being Sheriff entitled him to certain special services. One of his buddies… an assistant sheriff or something like that, must have suspected what he was up to because he arrived before he could… Anyway, that guy hustled him out, but not before he scared poor Josie to death. The other guy told her it would be in her best interests to keep her mouth shut."

"She told you what happened?"

"Yeah… she and I had commiserated about him before. He'd been pawing her for months, so… I warned her about him after what happened to me," Olivia reported. "The Assistant Sheriff scared the hell out of her, so she refused to press charges. Her boyfriend is one of the bartenders and he makes a point of always being around when she gets off work… Joe shifted floor assignments so none of the female employees serve the table he commandeers. He made it a standing order that one of the waiters always takes that table."

"Assistant Sherrif… do you mean Undersheriff?" Gil inserted.

Seeing her nod, he added, "I've heard the rumors same as you, Jim. McKeen has been covering up Burdick's behavior for the last few years and we all know it."

"Burdick's been a loose cannon for as long as I've known him… he was Captain of Patrol for the day shift when I came to Vegas," Brass observed. "It was a shock to most of the force when he was elected Sheriff. Atwater was a pain in the ass, but he was at least reasonably competent. McKeen has managed to cover up most of Burdick's screw-ups, but it's only a matter of time before that blows up in their face, especially if he's getting rough with women."

Nodding, Grissom pondered, "We keep coming back to McKeen… what's in it for him? He's burned too many political bridges covering for Burdick to ever hope to be elected Sheriff on his own. He's got support… power backing him that none of us knows about and its letting him get away with murder… literally."

"Yeah… we've been down this road," Brass replied, letting his hands drop from Olivia's shoulders. "There's a lot more going on there than just the usual good 'ole boy crap."

"You know what I think… about what happened to our friend," Grissom declared, taking care not to say too much in front of Olivia about the ongoing investigation of Warwick Brown's murder. "If he knows Burdick is angry about Olivia ignoring his… overtures, that would give McKeen a way to play him while he discredits you in the process… maybe even gets rid of you before you can help us prove our theories. McKeen came by our office several times tonight fanning the flames. We both know Burdick believes anything he tells him, so he's probably trying to spin this to his advantage."

"That might explain… Burdick was winding down once he finally started listening to what really happened," Brass mused. "He wanted to issue a statement to correct the record. I objected that it wasn't up to us… if Olivia wants to, fine. We were still arguing, but the intensity level had dropped… at least on his side of things… until…"

"Until?"

"I mentioned Liv and I planned to see each other again," Brass admitted, his eyes shifting in her direction as if seeking her confirmation. Seeing her faint smile and nod of agreement, he continued. "He went off again after that… his comments were… out there. It was like he had built all of these scenarios in his head to explain how I ended up at her place last night and I kept eliminating them with my answers. He was livid."

"OK," Liv insisted, "You're going to have to tell us what he said! You don't need to protect my feelings. I've already figured out I didn't get portrayed as the innocent virgin. Give."

Sighing, Jim summarized, "First you were a tramp sleeping with me the same day we met, then you had been wronged, injured woman that needed to be defended… then it was an adrenaline… encounter. The last was me as the pity lay. He was all over the place and it didn't make sense even then."

"Sounds like it," Gil agreed. "And, he started out like that… never gave you a chance to explain what really happened?"

"You and Catherine were ready to believe the stories too in case you've forgotten," Brass reminded him, "but, yeah, that's how it played out. He didn't know you had been injured yesterday, Liv… and I told McKeen. He should have passed it along to his boss same as I did when I told him."

"Interesting," the CSI murmured. "Grapevine's already saying Ortega is heading up the review."

Surprised, Brass asked, "Not him again! I'd have thought our past… dealings would have kept him on the sidelines this time."

"He never got over having his recommendations ignored in the Bell case, so he probably asked for the assignment. Frankly, he's probably gunning for you, so that plays into McKeen's agenda," Grissom guessed. "The true story needs to get out there and it needs got out quickly. If this goes on too long unchallenged, they will be able to spin it to their advantage. You're history if it gets to that. This has got to boomerang back on them fast."

"That's already done," Olivia reported, clutching Brass's hand. "Danny issued a press release this afternoon. He was furious about what was being said… he's rather old-fashioned when it comes my reputation."

"Brothers are supposed to be protective," Jim approved, secretly worried about what might have been said. If it wasn't played right, no one would believe it.

Apparently, Olivia read minds. "I brought you a copy of the release. I think Danny likes you… in case you were wondering."

Accepting the sheet of paper she pulled from the pocket of her jeans, Jim grinned. "He doesn't want to string me up for putting you in this situation?"

"Get over yourself already!" Frowning slightly, Olivia pointed out, "I'm not some helpless Victorian maiden that needs to be defended! I invited you to my home for dinner. I argued with you about sleeping on the couch when you were ready to go home. You stayed later than you might have this morning because Abby and I insisted you join us for brunch. What the hell did you do to me anyway? I didn't even get a kiss out of…"

Grinning broadly, Jim leaned over and captured her lips in a quick kiss. "Sorry. I didn't…"

Slim arms twined around his neck as he was pulled close enough for her to snag his lips in a second, far more demanding kiss than the one he had offered. Within seconds, both had forgotten they had an audience.

Gil rolled his eyes and rose to wander into the kitchen. Spying the bottle of Glenlivet on the counter, he reached into the cabinet for a glass. After pouring himself a drink, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Entering one of the programmed numbers, he took a seat on one of the stools in front of the eat-in breakfast bar.

Hearing his call answered, he smiled. "Hi…"

--

8-25-08


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 5

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 5

--

Reluctantly easing out of her embrace, Jim glanced around his living room, quickly noting that Grissom was nowhere to be seen. The sound of bar stool scraping against the tile of the kitchen floor alerted him that his friend had merely retreated to the other room… probably motivated as much by the desire to avoid a potentially embarrassing moment as to give them a little privacy. The faint smirk on Olivia's face as her eyes slid back to him confirmed she had come to the same conclusion.

Seeing the news release she had given him peaking out from under his coffee table, Jim reached down to retrieve the crumpled paper from the floor next to the couch. His companion offered him a reassuring smile as she settled back onto the couch to gauge his reaction to her brother's response to the gossip swirling around them. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

"_We would like to thank the public for the outpouring of support Olivia has received as a result of her involvement in the apprehension of the Strip Sniper. While she was allowed to return home rather than being admitted to the hospital, she remains under a doctor's care for injuries sustained during yesterday morning's excitement. Apparently, that wasn't enough information to allay gossip, so let's try this again. Olivia suffered a mild concussion and a serious contusion to her right knee which greatly limits her mobility. My wife, my son, and I spent last night at her apartment in case she needed further medical care or simply needed help moving around._

_Captain Brass was also a dinner guest in my sister's home last night. He had spent most of the last two weeks actively engaged in the manhunt for the Strip Sniper, an effort that was both stressful and exhausting. Frankly, he was asleep on his feet by the time dinner was over, so we encouraged him to spend the night and get some much needed rest. After a good bit of arm twisting, he finally relented and spent the night on the couch… in case you were wondering about the sleeping arrangements._

_When all of this is taken into account, even the most determined gossip should find it hard to add a night of wild passion into this particular mix. Most men wouldn't find a woman that was dizzy and in pain, being guarded by her overly protective twin brother and four-year old nephew a prime candidate for seduction. Jim Brass is no exception._

_Few, if any, woman are likely to feel amorous with a slitting headache and throbbing knee leaving her nauseous and in pain. Having her guest literally falling asleep in his soup, the memory of seeing two men die in the line of duty earlier in the day, and a gaggle of reporters on her front door… why would anyone think sex was on the agenda?_

_So we can avoid the need for another news release in a few days time, we want to be perfectly clear. The invitation to dinner wasn't simply a polite thank you to the man that headed up the manhunt for Cody Jeffers. Liv invited Jim to dinner for the same reason men and women have been having dinner together for millennia. They met, felt an intrinsic attraction to each other, and a meal together seemed like a logical next step in 'the getting to know you a little better so we can see if there's something here' process. My wife thinks it's all rather romantic… our son and I are withholding judgment pending further developments._

_If they decide they want to pursue a relationship once she's back on her feet, we wish them well, but that's their business, not ours. We would appreciate the public doing the same by respecting their privacy and letting them enjoy the fun, the anxiety, and the uncertainty inherent in forging any new relationship. Frankly, I'm just relieved to be happily married and safely out of the perilous waters of the dating pool._

_Jim, I do feel the need to warn you that, while my twin is a wonderful, caring, intelligent woman with an amazing talent, she is also opinionated, hard-headed, and disorganized. She lost her keys and spent an hour looking for them in case you were wondering why she was so late leaving the club yesterday morning. You also need to know that she is prone to 'New Age-y' premonitions and other similar garbage, has an off-beat sense of humor, and has been known to get lost in a good book to the point she forgets to sleep or eat. Oh, and she knits… badly, so lopsided scarves and sweaters are part of the bargain. Don't say you weren't warned… I have all of Vegas as witnesses._

_Livvie, this one's a keeper, so don't blow it._

--

Looking up, Brass fixed Olivia with a confused stare. "This is the statement? I thought you said Danny was furious?"

"He was," she agreed, laughing at the look on his face. "Abby managed to calm him down and convince him to make a joke out of the whole thing… with a little sarcasm thrown in to keep him happy. Most of the papers posted it verbatim on their web pages or in their late editions… apparently they found it funny and a great follow-up to the other reports. The afternoon talk shows did the same. I think it even made CNN and Fox News."

"So… we've gone from being a potential scandal to… what?"

"A budding romance," she responded, fluttering her lashes in a comedic attempt at coy. "I thought it was pretty good considering his earlier drafts… those didn't need to see the light of day. This one refuted all the allegations, made the ones spreading the gossip look a little foolish, and still left us room to be seen together without another round of this crap… family approval and all that."

"And… the press is going along… agreeing it was pretty ridiculous?" Jim asked, relaxing slightly at the show of support. She was right; this statement… unconventional as it was, cleanly cut McKeen off at the pass if he was attempting to spin it to his advantage.

"Well… I wouldn't say it would have been ridiculous had the rumors been true, but the timing would have sucked to say the least. We could turn on the late news and see if they're still talking about us, but I think we've had our 15 minutes," she predicted, resting her head against his shoulder as he shifted to drape his arm over hers.

"It's after midnight, so the news reports are over for the day." Studying her for a few seconds, Jim observed, "Your head is still hurting isn't it?"

"Ummm."

"And your knee?"

"I haven't forgotten about it," she hedged. "I'll live to dance another day, so no worries. Do you like to dance?"

"Only with beautiful red-heads," he replied. "So… you're still interested in going out with me once you're back in dancing mode?"

Tilting her head to meet his gaze, she asked, "Has something happened that I need to know about that would have changed my mind? Are there legions of pitchfork wielding villagers massing to oppose our dating?"

"Well, I have an ex-wife and an estranged daughter that don't speak highly of me… something I'm sure they would be willing to share with the public if asked," he admitted, grinning at the mental image her question evoked. "I'm still on speaking terms with the other women that have ever been a serious part of my life… though most of them are city girls that wouldn't know a pitchfork from a tuning fork."

Fixing him with an attempt at a serious look, she asked, "So… the one-nighters don't have an opinion?"

Seeing the devilish grin she was barely containing, he joked, "I refuse to answer that one on the grounds… I'm hoping none of them remember. A one-nighter probably means I had too much to drink and I doubt I was memorable… at least in a good way."

"With all the publicity you've had in the last day or two, some of them might want to give you a 'do-over'," she speculated, laughing at the horrified look that produced.

"Is that one of your premonitions… or just your off-beat sense of humor?"

Rolling her eyes, she lamented, "Danny could have gone a little easier on telling my faults. He made me sound like a total whack job."

"Not to me," Jim murmured. "I thought you sounded adorable… intriguing… sexy."

"Yeah, right," Olivia scoffed.

"I'm serious," he insisted, making a slashing motion over his heart. "Are you OK with that statement? I hate that you got treated like this. You didn't…"

"I should apologize to you, Jim" she inserted. "Crap like this goes with my turf, not yours. The old adage 'it doesn't matter what they say about you as long as they spell your name right,' is sadly true for me, but I'd hate like hell for this to hurt your career. Will this take care of the rumors?"

"When did Danny release the statement?"

"A few hours after you left my place," she offered. "If you had stayed around for another 30 minutes, you would have been treated to his rant. I tried to call…"

"…but I had my phone off," Brass completed. "I was actually following the Sheriff's direct orders… which gives that fact a certain irony. If Danny released the statement this afternoon, that means the press had it before my blowout with Burdick. No way for them to twist that to say I somehow got you to back my story so it matched up with what I told him… and Grissom and Catherine when I arrived at the station."

"Speaking of Gil… shouldn't we let him come out of hiding?" Liv proposed, looking toward the kitchen door. "Poor guy's been cowering in there for almost an hour now."

"Yeah, I guess," Jim reluctantly agreed, not yet ready to give up the pleasure of having her cuddled to his side. "Do you want anything while I'm in the kitchen?"

"Is there anything to eat in there? I starving," she admitted. "I was too worried and angry to think about dinner."

"Not a lot and I'd prefer not to call for delivery under the circumstances," Jim replied, mentally running through the contents of the cabinets and frig. "I could throw together some tuna sandwiches… except the bread is probably stale. How about an omelet?"

"Are the eggs fresh?" she teased.

Sighing, he shook his head. "Probably not. I haven't been home enough in the last two weeks to shop much less cook. Maybe you can con Grissom into making a run to the deli in the shopping center across from the entrance to my street. They stay open 24-7. He'll blow me off, but you seem to have a way with him."

Allowing him to help her up, she grinned, "You want this theatrical or straight-forward?"

"Theatrical, of course," Brass replied, pulling her into his arms for another kiss. "Grissom can be completely clueless some times, so that should be fun to watch."

--

Picking up the other half of his sandwich, Gil reread the news release a second time. "This is good. It covers it all and dismisses it at the same time… does it all with humor. I'm willing to bet Burdick will issue his own news release in the morning… you're probably enjoying a few days of much deserved rest rather than a two week unpaid rip."

"Probably," Jim agreed, reaching over to grab several chips off of Olivia's plate. "That still means I'm out of the office unless it was a one day thing. I need to be there to see what's going down, not out here blind and useless."

"Let me give Catherine a call and see if she and Sofia … maybe Nick and Greg, can meet us for breakfast. I need to check in with her anyway since she's covering for me," Grissom proposed. "We all need to be on the same page on this. I've already lost one of my guys; I won't risk another. Want to include Vega?"

Brass hesitated a moment, staring blindly at his pickle as he moved the chess pieces around in his head. "Sam should be in the loop, so yeah, but just him and Sofie for now. We need to play this close… like you said, we're lost one good man. We need a plan before we go any further."

"OK," Grissom agreed. "You're right; trust isn't the only issue. We need to keep this as close as possible. We get sloppy and McKeen will be all over us before we can make a move."

Olivia had been silently listening to their exchange. Putting the rest of her chicken salad sandwich back on the plate, she whispered. "Are Burdick and this McKeen really as dangerous as you seem to think? And, I understand I can't repeat what I heard tonight to anyone, even Danny, so don't worry about that."

"Yeah, they are, so you need to stay as far from this as we can manage. The less he thinks you know, the better," Brass reluctantly acknowledged. "When do you go back to work?"

"Not for a few weeks," she replied. "We were due to take a two week break beginning at the end of the week so they could do some remodeling at the nightclub… the sound system needs to be replaced. Since the doctor won't let me perform much before then anyway, Danny says management has decided to close a few days early and use the time to hype the reopening. They've been running a big media blitz, but Danny says that's an understatement at this point. Advance ticket sales are already through the roof."

"You're not happy with what they're planning?" Jim asked, needing a change of topic while he silently processed the 'big picture'. He found her rambling style of conversation oddly soothing as well as intriguing.

"I'm reserving judgment for now," she hedged. "Danny's told them how I feel about exploiting what happened, so they promise it will be 'tasteful'. I have my doubts, but they have been good to work with so far. Danny keeps lecturing me I have to be realistic… that there's bound to be some numbers boost to my shows and CD sales regardless of what I do. Apparently, my name has ranked as the top search topic on both Google and Yahoo since yesterday. Makes me feel a little sick to think I might profit off of this, but… what can I do to stop it?"

"Not much… you were all over the news, so it unavoidable that some people are going to want to hear your music as a result… some new fans are sure to stick around once they do," Jim speculated. "Function of the internet age."

With a resigned nod, she concluded, "Other than finishing my new CD… working on new arrangements for the show, I plan to take a break and relax the rest of the time… unless I get roped into doing some promo work… interviews and talk shows."

"Like Jim has said to me many times… if Jazz had a wider following, you'd have been a superstar for years now," Grissom observed. "You're very, very good, so I don't see how you can avoid attracting new fans once they hear you sing."

A soft chuckle proceeded, "Jim drug you to enough of my shows, so you should know."

Cutting his eyes at his friend, Gil corrected, "Actually, I gave him a copy of one of your CD's years ago and got him hooked. When we heard you were opening a show in Vegas, we got tickets as soon as they went on sale. Most of my team came with. I turned them all on to you like I did Jim… though he seems to be a little more turned on than the rest of us."

Olivia began to chuckle as a bright red blush spread across Brass's face. Grissom went back to his sandwich, enjoying the rare sight as a bonus for a successful night's plotting.

--

A/N -- Well, what do you think of the story so far??

9-11-08


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Improvisation, Chapter 6

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; Brass/OCF  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Jim Brass's life had long ago fallen into an uncomfortable, lonely rut. An unexpected bit of improvisation changes all of that… improvisation that has a Jazz riff. Set in the months after the end of Season 8, an unexpected encounter leads the CSI crew in pursuit of a killer that took the life of one of their own. Brass-centric with a little GSR.

Improvisation -- Chapter 6

--

"Well, if it isn't LVPD's stud to the stars!"

Shaking his head at the grin lighting Nick Stokes handsome face, Brass remained silent as he took his seat at the table. It was the first real smile he had seen on the younger man's face since his best friend had been found bleeding to death in his blood-spattered car in the alley behind the diner they used to frequent. The entire night shift had taken Warwick Brown's murder hard, but it had been especially difficult for Nick. He had been torturing himself with all the things he thought he should have done to have prevented the tragedy.

Logically, Nick knew… they all knew, the killer had been watching and waiting for an opening to kill Brown; his murder hadn't been a random act of violence, but a planned execution. If he hadn't been alone in the alley, he would have eventually been alone somewhere else… or the killer might have grown willing to kill others to settle whatever grievance he had with the brash CSI. They had all naively believed the danger hovering around Warwick had died with Lou Gedda. They had been wrong and none of them had felt safe since.

Brass shared Gil Grissom's opinion that the killing wasn't about something Warwick had done, but something he knew… or his killer though he knew. He felt certain, a feeling more than actual proof, that McKeen was somehow involved if not the actual shooter, but he needed evidence to support his instincts… and evidence was in short supply at the moment. The thought that one of his fellow officers was a cold-blooded murderer… he hadn't yet found a way to wrap his mind around the concept.

In some ways, he felt the same crushing guilt as Nick. Brass had lost count of the number of times he had blamed himself for telling an out-of-control Brown to go to the Undersheriff and see if he would use his political influence to help him get a warrant to search Gedda's club. He had begun to suspect McKeen might not be entirely clean, but he had been in Vegas too long… had nearly lost both his life and his career busting up one nest of dirty cops in Newark, not to know every force had its share of graft and corruption. It ate at him to think his suggestion had started the dominoes toppling.

The day they had found Warwick, the memory of something Grissom had told him the younger CSI had said to McKeen roared to the forefront of his thoughts. Rick had accused the Undersheriff of being on the take… his comment fueled more by anger and frustration than any real belief the older man was somehow covering for the club owner. As he has watched them prep his friend's body for a fruitless trip to the hospital, the nagging certainty that it was that out-of-control comment that had lead to Rick's death refused to go away. Brass had begun to gingerly peal back the layers of deceit that protected a killer… now it was time to bring him and his cronies down. Until then…

Until then, he wanted to keep the smiles intact for as long as possible. Years of experience in the interrogation room had given him an impressive poker face, a face he put to good use as he fixed Stokes with a serious look. "Someone had to redeem the reputation of the force and give you a little competition with the ladies. Science geeks aren't supposed to be whipping our asses in the love arena."

"The love arena?" Catherine sputtered, wiping a splash of coffee off of the front of her blouse. "Where do we buy tickets to see this… stud-off?"

"Oh, dear God, no!" Sofia Curtis exclaimed, holding up her hand as if to stop them from starting the show then and there. "I love Jim and Nick to death, but… I so don't need to see them in **that** competition! We're the only two women at the table, so…"

"Can't say for sure about Nickie, but you don't know what you're missing with Jim," Catherine teased. Seeing the stunned looks turning in her direction, she demanded, "Oh, come on… don't tell me you didn't know about us?!"

Dropping his head to stare at the table in hopes of hiding the smirk lighting his face, Jim demurred, "I'm not the one to just out us, doll face. I don't kiss and tell."

Surprised blue eyes swept the table. "None of you suspected we were having an affair… not even a little?"

"When?"

"When what, Gil?" Catherine demanded, blushing now that she realized none of the others had known about their affair.

"When were you two sleeping together? Was it back when Jim ran the lab?" Grissom replied.

"I so hope you're not going **there** since you don't have any room to stand in judgment on that particular issue!" Catherine exclaimed, breaking into a laugh. "And, very little sleeping was involved if you must know."

Pretending to flinch, Grissom retorted, "That may cross the line into the realm of too much information."

"An affair… as in a short, passionate interlude or… a long-term relationship you two managed to keep hidden from the rest of us?" Nick questioned, warming to this new game.

"I'm not the one telling this tale of lust amid the test tubes and evidence recovery bags," Brass joked, "but, Catherine and I could have waltzed naked through the halls and none of you guys would have looked up from your microscopes! You didn't even catch on about Gil and Sara for God's sake!"

"You and Catherine waltzed naked in the halls?" Grissom repeated. "If that's what was happening, I'm going to be afraid to look up the next time I hear music!"

"I knew about Sara and Grissom," Greg inserted, dodging the slap Nick aimed at the back of his head. "It was pretty obvious, but… you two… right after you were shot, right?"

"Very good, Sanders," Brass observed, willing to let it go at that. "I'm glad one of you techies has eyes and knows how to use them."

"How long?" Nick asked, his twinkling eyes darting back and forth between the two erstwhile lovers.

"That time?" Catherine asked, a wicked grin lighting her face as Grissom choked on his coffee. "To answer you original question, Nickie, it wasn't so much **an** interlude as a **series **of interludes… lovely, passionate interludes when the mood or opportunity presented itself. Jimmy could teach the rest of you plenty when it comes to romance."

That caused Brass to sputter into his own cup of morning brew. "Give a guy a little warning before you drop bombshells like that in the middle of the breakfast table, beautiful. Now I'll be fighting off Sofia and the ladies in the lab once word spreads of my… prowess. I guess that means Stokes' standing is toast though."

"I hate to be the one to break it to the ladies," Grissom interjected, nodding in greeting as a confused Sam Vega joined them, "but, I strongly suspect one of our resident Casanovas is off the market. I was forced to hide in his kitchen last evening to avoid death by embarrassment while playing chaperone. Unless I've misread all the signs, he was well and truly claimed. Sorry Catherine, but at least you have your memories to sustain you… unlike poor Sofia."

Settling back to watch Jim field the flood of questions that elicited, Grissom let his team enjoy a few minutes of harmless banter. The conversation was about to turn grim, so a little relaxation was not only a good idea, it was vital. The only thing that was missing to make the moment perfect was the two faces that should have been among their numbers.

--

Brass stepped out into the sun-lit parking lot, his sunglasses firmly in place to shield his eyes from the blinding desert sun. He had lingered over a final cup of coffee after Grissom and the others left to go home and get some sleep… or report for duty in Sofia's case. He had wanted to run back through the details of their plan, looking for flaws or gaps in their strategy. A mistake at this juncture could cost someone their life.

The woman lounging against the side of his car was watching his approach with unreadable blue eyes as she shifted slightly to face him, her own sunglasses pushed back on her head to hold back the tumble of thick strawberry-blond hair. It wasn't really a surprise that Catherine had lingered to talk to him alone… that had once been her favorite ways to instigate one of their 'interludes', but those mornings were in the past and he wasn't sure he wanted to have the conversation that was about the happen. From the determined set of her features, he had few illusions he was going to have the option to decline… so he decided to be the one to speak first.

"Why this morning?"

She didn't pretend to misunderstand his question. "I… honestly, I'm not entirely sure."

Coming to a stop several feet from her, Jim observed, "You knew damned good and well none of them knew about us… you make sure of that. Every time I proposed taking our affair public, you ended it… until the next time you were lonely or just feeling needy and I was the best option available."

Catherine tilted her head to study him, noting the rigid set of his shoulders and jaw. She knew him too well not to understand what that meant… he was bracing for a fight. They had had more than their share, usually over this very topic. "It was never like that. Being with you… it was one of the best things in my life and I didn't want to share it… risk loosing what we had if we failed. With our track records… I didn't trust us. I'm sorry I hurt you. I hurt me too."

Jim felt the tension in his neck ease as his shoulders dropped fractionally. This was new… Catherine had never admitted there had been enough to their affair for either of them to be hurt. She always preferred to pretend it had just been really good sex between friends that knew each other well enough not to need to stand on ceremony. He agreed about the sex and the friendship, but he had known they could have had more if they tried.

/Tried… past tense/ he mused. /I guess it really is over, 'cos I never remember thinking of it like that before./

"I guess we did OK in the end," Jim suggested, a faint smile softening the lines of his face. "We still have the friendship. We didn't loose that."

Catherine watched him for several long seconds before asking, "And the rest… no chance now, huh?"

"Would we be having this conversation if I hadn't met Liv?"

He saw her body flinch slightly, the accuracy of his question clear to them both. "Maybe not… at least not here, today. I've made overtures…"

"Sex, but no future," Jim sighed, raking his hand across his scalp. "I'm 55, Catherine. I've been alone for over fifteen years… hell, I was alone for most of my marriage. I want more than a periodic visitor to my bed. Sad thing is so do you."

Staring at the traffic passing on the street, he mused, "The last couple of days have helped me understand why we never made the affair permanent. Neither one of us was willing to jump out there… take a risk and fight for it knowing there would be an audience… not really caring if there was. Relationships require risks… make a person forget about themselves because they're more concerned with their partner."

"Jim…"

Holding up his hand, he pleaded, "Please let me finish…. OK?"

Seeing her reluctant nod, he picked back over the last few years. "You said it yourself… you didn't trust us. When push came to shove, we always went our own separate ways. You knew about Ellie… knew I was on the edge and needed help in dealing, but… you went to Reno because you'd promised Sam rather than stay and try to stop me from doing anything stupid. When you called on your way out of town… what you said summed 'us' up… I wasn't your only friend on the force. I remember that… word for word, because it meant you didn't think of me as anything more."

He knew the pain that indifferent comment had caused… perhaps the moment when he had understood they had no real future, was clear in his voice, but he realized she had never known the impact it had had on him. Knowing she needed to understand that was the moment when the possibility of them died if she was ever going to understand their affair was well and truly over, he let her hear the pain it still evoked. "Hell, I took off to LA when Ellie called about her friend and never talked with you until I was already on the road… and we were on again at that point. It struck me then how much our affair was like the one I'd had with Annie… seeing her made that much clear at least."

"Did you sleep with her?" Catherine whispered, the question she had wanted to ask for three years finally given voice.

"I've been waiting for you to… No… she was willing… I still care for her, but… I've never forgiven her for running off to LA when things got ugly in Newark. I needed her and she left me… no phone call, just a lousy note left with the desk sergeant… one more humiliation when I was already down. She said I have been a 'great friend'… hurt like hell," Brass replied. "I knew just how Gil felt when he got Sara's letter. A letter left with a witness… he's a better man than I am to forgive that… or maybe he just loves her more than I did Annie."

Looking up to grab her gaze in a firm hold, he added, "It would have been nice to have your trust… or at least your honesty. You could have asked if it bothered you that much and not broken things off again because you were pissed with me… doubted me. I never lied to you, Catherine, not then, not now… never."

Catherine's eyes clinched shut. That particular piece of the puzzle that was Jim Brass explained why her refusal to treat their affair as anything more than 'friends with benefits' bothered him so much. It must have felt like déjà vu. It must have hurt like hell.

"If we're finally coming clean about our affair, you never felt you could come to me for help or support either," he admitted, his tone softening as he realized his point had been made. "Why didn't you talk to me before you used the lab to test his blood? I would have helped you find a way and not risked your career. And… for God's sake, you thought you'd been raped and you didn't call! We both knew that was the end… there was no pretending after that."

Seeing her sag, he asked, "Do you want me to go on? You never once came over in the weeks after… after I found out I had killed another cop. I was on the brink… I needed you, but…"

"I guess I don't need to mention Rick," Brass murmured, forcing his mind away from one dead cop to another. "It hurt like hell seeing you flirt with him… play that game you two played even when we were at least nominally together. You never bothered to hide it from me… worry about how it made me feel. Just so you know… it made me feel like crap."

Drawing a deep shuddering breath, he took a few seconds to regroup before continuing. "You came to visit me in the hospital, but you made it clear I couldn't say anything that might expose us… whether you were more worried about exposing the truth to us or the others I just don't know… and I've thought about it a lot. If once… once, one of us had taken a risk… but we never did."

The silence was painful. "You think you've found that with Olivia Dolan… a relationship you'd take risks for? You just met her, Jim. I'd hate to see you get hurt."

Sighing, he finally nodded. "Yeah, I do… and I'm willing to take that risk. For the first time in my life, the thought of not knowing… never finding out if we have what it takes scares me more than the possibility we might fail."

Seeing she was about to continue arguing, Jim inserted, "Consider this… it never entered my mind I might cause a stir showing up at her place the other night, I just knew I had to go and make sure she was OK… hell, just see her! I was ready to quit… or beat the crap out of Burdick last night when he was attacking her… and I was mad because I wanted to protect her, not worried about what would happen to me."

"And, even hurt and dizzy from a concussion, Liv was worried about me the other night," he added. "She saw how tired I was and was genuinely concerned about **me**. Hell, she came to find me last night, bum knee, splitting headache, and hundreds of reports on her heels, but she found me. I have no idea how she managed to get Gil involved or dodge her posse, only that she made that effort because she was worried. When I opened the door and saw her… I knew."

A tight band gripped her heart as Catherine whispered, "Knew what?"

Holding her gaze, he smiled gently. Now that it had come to this, he had no desire to inflict any more pain on either of them; they had done enough of that in the past. "That there was something special between us. I said that to Grissom when she was out of the room. He gave me one of his 'all-knowing' smirks and offered me a quote. I spent an hour tracking it down on the internet last night after they had left… it said it so well, I wanted to keep it, maybe share it with her one day. Hell, I read it so many times, I've memorized it."

"What… what was the quote?"

"It's from the writings of Khalil Gibran," he began."_'It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and persevering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations.' _Gil said he wished he had remembered it sooner. If he had, he would have spared Sara and himself a lot of pain and anxiety from his refusal to see what was right in front of his eyes all along. I'm seeing her, Catherine, with my eyes wide open and… I just know."

A single tear slipped down her pale cheek as she studied him in silence. Leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips, she nodded. "I love ya, Jim… always will. Be happy."

"I love you too," he whispered, running a gentle finger along the curve of her cheek to wipe away her tear. "It's time for you to move on… take a few risks and see what happens. I want to see you happy… and satisfied since I'm off the market."

That made her chuckle. "Don't get all cocky on me. You were good, but I was carrying you."

"Never doubted it for a second, doll face," he agreed. "Just don't tell Nick. I'd never hear the end of it."

--

Jim stood for a few minutes watching as her car disappeared down the street. Reaching for his cell phone, he dialed Olivia's number. A smile warmed his face as she answered. "Good morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?"

His smile deepened at her reply… that she felt better hearing his voice. "Well, if it helps… mind if I come over? There's something I need to tell you and I'd like to see you while I'm doing it."

--

"It's been over between us for a couple of years now, but… I hadn't been completely truthful with you about Catherine. I said she was just a friend and that's true **now**," Jim concluded. "By the time you opened your show last year, our affair was in the past as far as I was concerned. This morning… it took me by surprise. I thought she felt the same way"

"You didn't have to tell me this… at least not now," she observed, reaching over to take his hand. "Thank you. It means a lot."

Cradling her hand in his, he admitted, "I wasn't willing to take the chance someone might have seen us talking… the kiss. After the other night… I didn't want to risk it. Besides, I wanted to be upfront with you... I need us to be honest with each other. Catherine is my friend and I hope that doesn't change, but… you deserved to know about us from the beginning."

Studying the earnest expression on his face, she observed, "It sounds like a lot of things never got said between you two. Maybe your talk will help both of you leave it behind and move on. I'd hate to see you loose a friendship that obviously means a lot to you."

"I'm not still…"

"I get that, Jim," she reassured, a soft smile helping him relax. "I hope she feels the same way… but I have a feeling she's not there yet."

Sighing, he nodded. "I'm not sure what she's thinking to be honest… I just know its over for me and I don't want it any other way."

"Glad to hear it," she murmured, reaching up to pull his head over for a kiss. A faction of an inch from his lips, she admitted, "I'm hoping you might want something… someone else entirely different. Maybe someone not in law enforcement. Got any ideas?"

She could feel his smile as their lips met.

--

A/N -- Yes, I know Jim's age was given as 55 during the ER scene in _Way to Go_, but most character bios list his DOB as 1/3/1953 which would make Jim 55 now. I'm assuming the ER staff misread or miscalculated his age in the 'heat of the moment'.

9/21/08


End file.
